


no destination

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Feel-good, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment in a small shuttle. (post-EOS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	no destination

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just gotta do some otp snuggles. My thanks to kuri for finding all my typos and sweet words of encouragement as always. <3

They’d eventually given up on polite notions of personal space. The shuttle was simply too small, and neither he nor Ratchet were ones to keep awkwardly scooting around murmuring apologies. Yet getting used to a casual brush of plating or the hum of each other’s field frequencies, slowly learning each other’s dance through the small space… it was an adventure, but nothing compared to how they found themselves now.

 

Drift sighed as he shifted closer to Ratchet. There was just enough room on the cabin’s bunk for them both -- though it was a bit of a squeeze. Drift hadn’t wanted to impose, but Ratchet had growled and insisted until Drift thought he’d feel  _ worse  _ if he left. It was just that he’d dozed off at the navigation console and then poked his head in here to see if Ratchet was still recharging, but of course the medic wouldn’t hear of him tucking himself in some other corner of the shuttle.

 

So here he was tucked against Ratchet, instead.

 

It grew steadily more cozy, too. His helm tucked against Ratchet’s chestplate, Ratchet’s arm slung over his waist, their fields settling together and intake cycles synching. By this point they’d been still and quiet so long that Drift felt sure Ratchet had gone back to sleep… and gently, very gently, he slipped his hand into Ratchet’s.

 

He jumped when the medic’s fingers laced with his own, and slowly he cast an almost guilty look up at Ratchet.

 

Ratchet let out a gruff laugh. “What, didn’t wanna hold hands after all?”

 

Drift’s cheeks flushed, and as if in defiance, he squeezed Ratchet’s hand with his own. “No, I just -- I thought you were asleep.”

 

The medic grunted. “Yeah, you’re oh-for-two on that.”

 

Drift pursed his lips, but didn’t reply. And just like that, another comfortable silence enveloped them. Drift’s optics dimmed, and this time it was him on the verge of recharge, lulled by the whirr of intakes, when Ratchet spoke.

 

“That some hand?”

 

Drift, wondering if his drowsy mind had given him faulty perception, blinked. “Huh?”

 

“Chirolinguistics.”

 

“Oh.” Drift looked down at their interlocked fingers. He must have been moving his own without realizing, as he’d slipped close to recharge. “Not consciously.”

 

“Hmm.” It was just a soft sound, something to fill the silence, but the soft hum of it was a soothing buzz against his plating.

 

Drift chuckled. “You speak hand?” That wouldn’t surprise him.

 

“Not for a fragging lifetime,” Ratchet grunted. “And besides, it…”

 

When he trailed off, Drift peeked up at him again. “What?”

 

Ratchet shrugged, nonchalant -- but he wasn’t looking at Drift, either. “It feels different in these hands.”

 

Drift was quiet for a long moment, gazing down at their hands once more. “I see,” he murmured. Then he smiled. “Want a refresher?”

 

Ratchet let out a little sigh, resting his helm against Drift’s -- and Drift swore he could feel Ratchet’s lips brush across his finial in a smile. “Sure,” he murmured. “Sounds good, kid.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
